Superstition
by I'm Zero
Summary: One-shot, hint of Darcy/Loki. Loki has been staying in Jane and Darcy's shared home ever since Thor found him after he had fallen out of the vortex. Darcy has been assigned to watch over him, and she becomes frustrated when he refuses to eat.


Author's note: Well, I haven't written any fic in a long time, and this is the first one that I thought to publish on here. This comes from an idea that's been floating around my head for a while. I know that it might sound OOC for Loki to be the superstitious type, but keep in mind that some myths and folklore have a certain amount of truth to them, even if that meaning is lost to time. And I would think that Loki, being a very cautious person, a sorcerer, and an immortal wouldn't want to take any chances. I think I had a lot more difficulty writing Darcy than Loki. She didn't have much screen time in the movie so it's hard to know what she'd really say in certain situations. I just hope that I kept everyone at least consistent.

Anything that has a (#) is explained in the note at the end of the story.

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><p>Darcy doesn't even bother to knock on his door anymore; she just lets herself in. She isn't surprised when she sees him sitting up in his bed, wide awake and staring expectantly at the door. "Routine as always, Loki." she says as she closes the door awkwardly with her foot. He nods to her then shifts his gaze to the wooden tray that she's holding, "Breakfast." Darcy rolls her eyes, "No <em>duh<em>, genius."

She sits down next to him on the bed, setting the tray down in his lap. Loki eyes the contents of the tray warily, "I am not eating any of it." The girl groans in frustration, having heard the exact same sentence a million times before.

"Come ooooon! That's French toast, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and a fruit salad." She points to each item as she mentions them. "Look, I even gave you my Rilakkuma cup with 'Sleepy Time' tea in it! _I_ don't even make myself this, so you better be feelin' extra super special right now." He raises an eyebrow at her then glances over at the cup on the tray. It's a simple brown coffee mug with a cartoon bear's face on the front. "Charming, but no."

"UGH! Dude, do we really have to go through this every morning?"

"Apparently so," he says, giving her the slightest of smirks. It's just so easy to annoy her.

She rolls her eyes at him, picks up the fork and knife on the tray, and starts cutting up the slices of French toast, "It's French flippin' toast!" Darcy spears a piece of it with the fork and waves it in front of his face, "Sweet, sugary, carb-riddled deliciousness!"

"I think not," he drawls. She blinks at him then waggles the fork in his face again (a little closer this time), and he responds to the gesture by turning his nose up at her. Darcy feints a shocked reaction, gasping dramatically and pressing her free hand to her cheek. "But Loki! It's … good for your soul!" She waits for a snide remark but he simply scoffs and shoots her a skeptical look.

"Alright, fine! Not the whole thing. Just half?"

"No."

"A quarter?" She sarcastically bats her eyelashes at him. She makes circles in the air with the fork, as if she were trying to feed a stubborn child. 'Pfft, which he _is_,' she thinks.

"No."

"One bite?" He frowns and turns his head slightly when she tilts the utensil closer to his mouth.

"N— … Darcy, you're quoting one of those absurd children's programs that you love so much, aren't you?"

"She grins at him, "Bingo, Squidward. Now eat."

"I don't think so."

"No? Come on."

"I'm not eating that."

"You know you wanna! Oh c'mon, stop turning away. You're like a little kid, jeez!"

"I _don't_ want it."

"Well, how about the fr—"

"Darcy, just stop. I'm not eating anything."

"Urgh! Just. Try. IT. Don't be such a wuss!"

He glares at her and makes the tray disappear with a wave of his hand, "I am _not_ eating anything from this realm!" Darcy raises an eyebrow at him and she bites her bottom lip, her mouth curling into a mischievous smile. He _knows_ that look, "Or from any _other_ realm beside my own!" She lets out a sigh of annoyance then gets up from the bed.

"Fiiiiine! But I want my Rilakkuma cup back from limbo or wherever the hell you sent it." Loki gives her a puzzled look, "What? Limbo? I didn't send… it's in the kitchen, like always." She opens the bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway, and says in a sing-song tone, "It'd better beeeee! Okay, I'll see ya, Mr. Tentacles."

"Goodb—Oh, ha-ha. Your 'hen-TYE' references are always so _charming_," he sneers. Darcy sticks her tongue out at him, "Ew. Yeah, right. You wish. Adios!"

—- S.H.I.E.L.D. Outpost, Puente Antiguo, New Mexico—-

Darcy strolls right into the S.H.I.E.L.D. office, not even earning a questioning stare or blink from the numerous agents that are busily working in the compound. The perks of being a friend to an Avenger—none of the suits stop you to act like a jackass and ramble on about "security clearances" and whatnot. She walks into a nearby room, and spots Thor and Agent Coulson conversing to one side. She waits for them to finish, and preoccupies herself by studying the computer monitors nearby. After a few minutes, Coulson leaves the room, and Thor approaches Darcy.

"Yes, Darcy?" he asks, and flashes her his trademark "Disney Prince" smile, as she likes to call it. For a moment she forgets why she came there in the first place and her mind starts to wander off to all of the scatter-brained nicknames and labels that she's given him. Disney Prince. Nordic lumberjack that could cut diamonds with his abs. Adonis incarnate. Newly christened, mint condition, right-out-of-the-box genuine Avenger. 'Wait, is it blasphemous to say that he's 'christened'?', she thinks and she laughs to herself.

"What is so amusing?"

"What? Huh? Uuuuh, nothing. Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you something…," she pauses, "About Loki."

He blinks, slightly surprised by her statement. "Oh? What about?" She bites her bottom lip nervously and tilts her head, "Um, well, he hasn't been eating."

"Still?"

"Yeah, he hasn't eaten or drank anything since we found him.. what? Four months ago?" He nods to her, "Yes, and?"

"This is kinda dumb, but.. I don't know! He said something about not wanting to eat anything from here or anywhere else that isn't Asgard, I guess."

Thor contemplates her statement for a few moments, absent-mindedly scratching his jaw in though. "I wonder … if it's superstition?" Darcy looks at him skeptically, "Superstition? How?"

"Now that I think of it, I don't believe that Loki has ever seemed to eat anything that came from any of the other realms."

"Nuh-uh! What about that myth where that giant tricked you into lifting that huge cat or whatever? Didn't he agree to an eating contest or something?"

He smiles to her, "Not all of those myths are true, Darcy." She crosses her arms and smiles back at him, "Yeah, yeah, I guess not."

"Perhaps you should look into Midgardian mythology. Not just the ones concerning Asgard and the other realms, but all of the others around the world. You might find something." Darcy sighs inwardly, 'I don't want to do any homework! I have enough of that as it is. Ugh, babysitting sucks.'

Thor frowns slightly, taking notice of her silence. He places his hands on her shoulders and looks at her with concern, "Please do this. For me, and him. I know that I've already asked a lot from you for watching over him these past months." His hands squeeze her shoulders gently, "He won't see me; I'm afraid that he's too ashamed. So it must be you."

"Aww, man..," she grumbles as she runs a hand through her hair. She sighs, slumping her shoulders, "… okay." He beams at her and she smacks his arm playfully, "Dude, how can I say no to that?" She picks up her book bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and heads for the door, raising her arms up over her head in a sarcastic gesture of enthusiasm. "Off to the library! Gonna read a crap ton of books! Awesome way to spend my day off!" Thor watches her leave and shakes his head in amusement; he'll never understand her fondness for sarcasm.

—

Loki looks up apathetically at Darcy when she bursts into his room for the second time that day, "A bit _early_ for dinner, isn't it?" She smirks at him when his indifferent expression fades into a confused one; he noticed that she didn't have the food tray.

"Nooope, no dinner. Not yet." She unceremoniously drops her book bag into his lap and he grunts in discomfort. He narrows his eyes at her and pushes the bag away from him while she plops down beside him on the bed.

"_Must_ you be so uncouth in your actions, Miss Lewis?" he hisses.

Darcy attempts to mimic his voice and says, "_Must_ you be so pretentious?" She rummages through her book bag and retrieves a large leather-bound book with the title stamped in gold lettering on the cover, 'The Encyclopedia of World Folklore and Myth.' He watches her curiously as she flips to the index then starts thumbing through the pages of the book until she arrives at the page that she wanted.

"Okay!" she exclaims, scooting closer to him so he could see the page clearly, underlining the section heading titled 'Green (color)' with her finger (1). "Check that out. There's tons of folklore about your _favorite_ color."*** He cocks an eyebrow at her then begins reading the passage. His eyes skim the page curiously, but he becomes annoyed the more he reads on.

He clicks his tongue, tutting in disapproval, "Do Midgardians _really_ think this? Over a color?"

She nudges him gently with her shoulder, "Yup, they do. _Your_ color. Let's see… envy, jealously, love, lust, pestilence, death, and _evil_. All of those things associated with your trademark color, and associated with _you_ in mythology. Sounds like you've got it rough, dude."

Loki scoffs at her statement, "You don't know the half of it. Midgardians are so _daft_."

She smiles, amused by how seriously he's taking the text, "Hmm, it's not all bad. I mean, like.. Islam associates green with paradise, and other cultures see it as a symbol of prosperity and life, even immortality." Loki purses his lips, only ever so slightly reassured. Darcy starts to flip through the pages to another section, "I'm just saying that a lot of stuff in folklore has different meanings across cultures, and not all of those meanings are bad."

Darcy stops at a page and nudges him again, "Hey, look! They've even got an entry about the symbolism of _hair color_(1), haha." She taps her finger on the paragraph specifically about black hair.

"You're joking…" he says skeptically as he reads the passage. "Black hair? _Evil_?" he scoffs. "What nonsense. As if the color of one's hair really determines their disposition towards good or evil tendencies."

"Well, according to this book and other ones about myths and folklore—and judging by your past actions—you're pretty much the archetype of villainy, dude." The statement was made in jest but it angers him. Loki looks at her fiercely, his emerald-green eyes aflame. He's glaring daggers at her in that moment, and she feels the slightest bit surprised that he's not doing it _literally_.

Darcy shirks away from him slightly, suddenly thinking that the situation may have turned rather predatory. 'Shiiiiit, this is like a BBC nature documentary. I can hear David Attenborough narrating the last minutes of my life now. Fuck.', she thinks while Loki's eyes bore into her.

_Should the bold Darcy continue taunting him any further, she will surely be sorry for it. The enraged Loki will show no mercy for anyone that dares to cross him._

She straightens herself up and shoots him a cavalier expression, "Don't get your panties all in a twist." Loki gives her a final scowl, then looks down at the book and turns the pages irritatedly.

"Midgardian mythology and folklore are such utter nonsense." The pages snap as he turns them in annoyance. "Grossly slanderous, especially your Christian church," he grits his teeth as he runs his fingers over an illustration of Lucifer. "Atrocious rubbish," he hisses.

Darcy smacks her lips and tilts her head up to stare at the ceiling. "Is it any more ridiculous than you being afraid to eat?" Loki turns to look at her, completely perplexed. "What?" he whispers harshly.

She grins at him and pushes up the bridge of her glasses with her index finger, "Oh yeah, I've got you all figured out." His brows knit together in irritation, "Oh?" She bites her bottom lip in amusement and jabs him in the ribs with her fingers. "You think." Jab. "If you eat something." Jab. "From anywhere but home." Jab. "You'll be stuck wherever you are." He snatches her wrist to keep her from poking at his ribs any longer.

She raises her eyebrows at him, still smirking at him, "Riiiiight, _Persephone_?" Confounded, he looks at her, probably for a moment too long. "No." he replies. Darcy thinks for a moment then clicks her tongue, "Tch, if you aren't holding onto some dumb superstition, then you won't mind eating something." Loki frowns, suddenly realizing the impasse that he has reached. She is completely correct in her assumptions—that he's holding onto an ill-founded superstition out of fear. All myths and legends do come from some truth that has been lost to time. But admitting that to her would demolish what self-pride he has left, and he knows that she's the type of person who will hold something like that over his head for all time. He will not let her win; he decides that he must endure this and take the risk by eating something to prove her wrong.

"Alright. Fine. I will eat," he states in an indignant tone.

"Ha. Okay, what do ya want?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes at her, "I don't _care_. Just give me whatever it was that you made for me this morning." She hops off the bed and motions her hand in a mock salute, "Sure thing, boss." When she leaves for the kitchen, he leans back against the headboard, the back of his head making a dull thud against the wood. Sighing, he frowns and closes his eyes, and brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. To preoccupy himself while he waits, he takes out another book from Darcy's bag—the one concerning Norse mythology. Loki was chuckling to himself, in the middle of reading "The Lay of Thrym"—the myth where Mjolnir was stolen by the giant Thrym and Thor had to pretend to be Thrym's bride to get it back—when Darcy came back with the food tray in hand.

"Dig in, princess." she says as she hands him the tray, grinning. He raises an eyebrow at her, but says nothing and starts to eat. Darcy stands there with her arms crossed, watching him eat with a huge smirk still plastered on her face. Loki gingerly places the tray on the nearby nightstand once he was finished with the meal. He tilts his chin up and looks at her with a haughty expression and says, "Well, I'm done. I ate everything. Not a scrap left."

"Yes, yes you did," she remarks, grabbing the tray. He leers at her, clearly vexed by the fact that she's still looking at him with that mischievous expression, "_What_ do you find so amusing? I did what you asked." Darcy rocks on the balls of her feet in amusement and is silent, her expression never changing. Loki cannot stand seeing her look so smug. He stands up abruptly, his hands balled into fists at his side.

"_What_?" he hisses. She looks up whimsically at the ceiling, humming to herself. "Ooooh, nothing." She starts to leave, but stops to stand in the doorway, her mouth forming another smirk. "Just that I just totally made you my bitch forever."

Loki stands there, watching her leave. He stares at the spot in the doorway where she once was moments ago, his lips parted slightly in bewilderment. He finally realized that she was toying with him the whole time. Darcy became aware of his superstition, and she knew that he wouldn't admit to it for the sake of his pride. She knew that he would risk eating the food to save face. Either way, she would have won. He was fooled; a _mortal_ tricked the Trickster.

He suddenly found himself smiling, for the first time in months.

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><p>(1) Yes, all of that symbolism about green and black hair is true, haha! Most of what I've learned was from British Literature class and reading up on mythologyfolklore. Information about the symbolism of green and how Loki was theorized as being a manifestation of the devil can be found easily enough, but concrete information about black hair is harder to find. I just remembered the hair symbolism from my lectures; I'm not sure, but I think it came from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. There was a hag that would always be near the king's wife, and I think she was described as having black hair and being left-handed (another symbol of wickedness), and my professor went on to explain what that meant.


End file.
